I Miss You, I Need You
by tinylexie
Summary: Narcissa's, Lucius's, and Draco's thoughts and feelings during Lucius's imprisonment in Azkaban.
1. Narcissa

**Author's Note****: This takes place after the events of **_**Harry Potter and Order of the Phoenix**_**. **

She missed him. He had always been there for her in the past. But now he was gone. And now it was up to her to keep the family together.

How could this have happened? She had to be dreaming. There was no way that her Lucius could be in Azkaban. There was no way that the Dark Lord could have given her son Draco the task of murdering Albus Dumbledore. She had to be dreaming.

She needed Lucius. He would have known what to do. He would have known the right words to speak in order to comfort her. He would have known how to make everything better.

Lucius had always called her a very capable witch. He had always respected her opinions. He had always wanted to hear what was on her mind, even when she had not always agreed with him. He had always treated her like an equal. He had always liked how she had never been afraid to challenge him, but without losing her respect for him at any moment.

She wasn't supposed to have fallen in love with her husband. But she did.

She should be able to hold herself together. She was a Pureblood, after all. But she couldn't. She couldn't do any of this alone. She missed Lucius. She needed him.

How was he faring in Azkaban? Lucius had always been a strong one, but he hated confinement. He was a free spirit. He needed room to roam. But now he was in a cage, some dark, cold, filthy cage. He was being treated like some animal. Her poor Lucius.

How was he coping with all this? Were they feeding him enough? Probably not. He was just some Death Eater scum to them, after all. Was he cold? That was a stupid question. Of course he was cold. Now she was being completely silly. She was better than that.

What if he got sick while he was in Azkaban? There would be no one around to comfort him. In fact, they probably would laugh at him. Who did they think they were? Didn't they know who her husband was? Lucius was better and _purer_ than all of them combined. They weren't fit to polish his shoes. Yet they were being allowed to be his guards. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. She had to be dreaming because everything was now completely wrong.

Was he scared? She couldn't imagine Lucius being scared of anything. He had always been the confident one, the one who had rarely shown any emotions. Unlike her. There had been so many times when he had held her while she had cried. Just his touch alone had been enough to comfort her. And his quiet strength had helped to make everything better.

But was Lucius scared now? Was he worried about her and Draco? Of course he was. She and Draco were his world. Everything that he had ever done in his life had been for them, to make their lives better.

Did Lucius miss her as much as she missed him? Of course he missed her. He may have never said the words "I love you," but she knew that he loved her. His unwavering respect towards her and all his gentle touches whenever she had been in distress told her that he loved her.

But did he need her as much as she needed him? But what could she possibly do for him now? She couldn't break him out of Azkaban through sheer will alone. Besides, she knew that Lucius would not want her getting involved. He had always tried his best in the past to keep her away from harm.

But now she was in harm's way, along with Draco. And for once in his life, there was nothing that Lucius could do about that. That had to hurt the most, that feeling of helplessness. Lucius had always been a man of action. But now he couldn't act. He couldn't do anything but wait for the tides to turn back in his favor.

And that was all she could do as well. She just hoped that Severus would be able to protect her son.

She also hoped that it wouldn't be long before she was reunited with Lucius. She missed him and she needed him more than she could ever express with words.

She hated to be alone. But at least she wasn't as alone as her poor Lucius. He had no one. She at least had Severus and her sister, even though her sister clearly cared more for the Dark Lord than she did her own sister and nephew. But that was still better than what Lucius had.

She hoped that Lucius knew that she missed him. And despite everything that had happened and despite the fact that he was now trapped in Azkaban, she also hoped that Lucius knew that she still needed him.


	2. Lucius

**Author's Note****: As requested by ****alyssialui**** and RolledupinOne, this is a chapter from Lucius's point of view while he is in Azkaban. This chapter is slightly AU because of references made to Lucius's childhood, and of course we really don't know much about his childhood. That, therefore, gives me some freedom to imagine what his childhood might have possibly been like. **

He missed her, and he was ashamed that he was just now realizing how much she really meant to him. He was ashamed that he was just now realizing how much he really needed her.

She had always been there for him whenever he had needed comfort and whenever he had doubted himself.

Yes, he had needed comfort on many occasions. As a child, he had hated the summers because that had meant being all alone in the manor with his tyrannical father. Narcissa's letters had been the only thing that had kept him sane and hopeful, hopeful that life would one day get better.

After he had taken the Dark Mark, Narcissa had always been there to comfort him whenever he had been hurting. And she had never mocked him for any weakness that he might have shown.

And yes, he had doubted himself on many occasions. He had disappointed both his father and the Dark Lord when he had not done a good enough job proving just how loyal he was to blood purity. He had disappointed the Dark Lord often during his time of servitude. The resulting punishments had always left him feeling like he wasn't good enough.

But he had always been more than good enough to Narcissa. She had never lost hope in him, she had never doubted him. She had always treated him as if he was the most wonderful person in the world, even when he had not felt that wonderful.

He didn't feel so wonderful at the moment. He felt like quite the failure actually. He really needed Narcissa to lift him back up.

But she couldn't, no matter how much she may have wanted to. He was imprisoned in Azkaban, and she had to face the Wizarding World all by herself. She had to endure the stigma of being the wife to a convicted Death Eater. It would not matter to them that she herself did not have the Mark. Just being associated with _him_ would be enough for her to be judged. She was suffering just as much as him, if not more.

He tried not to focus too much on his own personal pain and misery. He would go mad if he did.

He was actually quite use to being locked in a dark, cold, filthy cell. As a child, he had spent a lot of time in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. His father had known that would be the best punishment for his failure of a son. His father had known that his son hated being confined in tight spaces for long periods of time. The son had found torture to be a more preferable form of punishment.

But just because he was used to being locked in a cage like a worthless, dirty animal did not mean that he liked or enjoyed his current predicament. No, he was hating every moment of it.

He tried to keep himself occupied with his thoughts, but he could only recite his favorite philosophy book so many times before it started to do something horrible to his mind. Philosophy was now a subject that was close to driving him completely mad.

And he had already counted the bricks in his cell numerous times. Counting them again would only make him go mad. Besides, the number of bricks would not change, no matter how many times he counted them. And he wasn't about to start_ imagining_ bricks. No, he wouldn't go down that path.

He really needed Narcissa. She had always been good at keeping him from completely losing his mind. She had always had the gift of being able to calm him down whenever he had gotten too excited or upset about something. She had been the only one who had ever been able to keep him grounded.

He hoped that Narcissa wasn't needing him too much. She wasn't only having to deal with her own grief. She was also having to deal with Draco's grief. And Draco was a lot like him in many ways. Like him, Draco had the tendency to make things more dramatic than was necessary. And poor Narcissa was having to deal with an excitable son all on her own.

He knew that he had not always been the best father. He had been stricter and colder than Narcissa. And he had not always spoken the most comforting words to Draco when his son had been upset about something. But he had always acted as a balance to Narcissa. She had been the one to offer comfort, while he had been the one who had tried to get Draco to understand the realities of the world. His methods may not have always been the best, but Narcissa had always been there to act as _his_ balance.

He and Narcissa had made the perfect team, but now they were no longer a team. Now it was just Narcissa. She was now having to perform the dual roles of both mother and father.

She was also having to deal with the Dark Lord. He knew that the Dark Lord had to be angry with him. He had failed miserably, after all. And as his wife, Narcissa was his representation when he was not able to be available. He clearly couldn't be available while he was in Azkaban. So, that left poor Narcissa to endure the Dark Lord's wrath, the wrath that was meant for _him_.

He could only hope that the Dark Lord was not hurting her or Draco. He couldn't bear to think of such thoughts for too long. He didn't want to imagine the worse. But he couldn't help it.

If his teeth and nails had been enough to break out of Azkaban, he would have been back at home by now. But his various body parts had so far proven to be inadequate tools in accomplishing that goal.

He felt so helpless. He barely had any room to move around. All he could do was think, and thinking was slowly starting to drive him mad. He needed to be able to turn his thinking into action. But in his current circumstance, he couldn't act no matter how much he thought about it. He was as good as useless.

He wondered if Narcissa now thought him as helpless and useless. She had been left all alone because of his failure. He couldn't help her in any way. She was having to do everything now, all by herself. She had to be disappointed in him. She had to hate him.

How was she coping? Was she just as much of an emotional mess as he was? Or was she doing well and now realizing that she no longer needed him?

He couldn't bear the thought of not being needed. He especially couldn't bear the thought of not being needed by Narcissa. She was his comfort when he was feeling miserable. She was his strength when he was feeling weak. She was his sanity. She was the calmness of his storm. She was his everything. If he was to lose her, he would lose everything worth living for.

He truly missed having her at his side. She would have been able to make everything feel better.

He was ashamed that he was just now realizing how much he really needed her.


	3. Draco

**Author's Note****: This is for alyssialui, who wanted a chapter from Draco's point of view. This chapter covers some of Draco's thoughts in regards to his father during different times in **_**Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince**_**.  
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He missed his father. He missed everything that his father had represented.

How many times had he used his father's name as a warning? How many times had he used his father's name to show just how serious he was about something?

But now his father's name was no longer a threat that he could use. Now his father's name meant nothing but disgrace. And because of that, his name now meant nothing but disgrace. In the eyes of the public, his name had been tainted by his father's crimes, the crimes that his father could no longer deny.

His father's name was no longer respected, which meant that he was no longer respected. His identity was tightly linked to his father's identity. He was judged just as his father was judged.

Despite everything, though, his father's name still meant something to him. His father's very presence still meant something to him. His father was still everything to him.

He had always been eager to imitate his father. He had always admired his father's confidence and his father's ability to make others tremble in fear with just a glance. The son was now using those same techniques to survive everything that was now coming his way. He could never allow the world to see just how weak and just how afraid he felt now that his father was imprisoned in Azkaban. No, he would continue to act like his father had acted. He _had_ to act like his father had acted. He couldn't let anyone see how pathetic he had become without his father.

He had come to realize very quickly just how much he needed his father. His mother tried her best to keep the both of them strong, but it just wasn't the same. They weren't complete without his father.

Both he and his mother appeared as cold and as unfeeling as ever whenever they were out in public. But behind the walls of their manor, they were slowly falling apart. Their walls of steel were slowly beginning to break and crumble. They were missing and needing the head of their family.

His mother tried her best to be strong around him. But he had caught her crying several times whenever she had thought that he was not around to see. His mother was strong, but she was missing a part of herself now that her husband was in Azkaban.

He didn't even want to begin to imagine what life must now be like for his father. It didn't make sense. It couldn't be real. His father was proud and dignified, everything a Pureblood was supposed to be, everything _he_ wanted to be. He couldn't comprehend in his mind the image of his father being reduced to something less than a Mudblood or a Muggle. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right.

And it was all Potter's fault. Potter would one day pay, and he would pay dearly. The son intended to make his father proud.

And the son would make the Dark Lord proud as well. He would not fail the Dark Lord. He _could not_ fail the Dark Lord. His family's lives depended on his success.

He would fix everything. He would reestablish his family's glory and pride.

But it was a task too big for him. He couldn't do it alone. He was nothing without his father's strength and confidence. Without his father, he could no longer believe in himself. He had been reduced to his father's current level.

His father had often been hard and cold towards him, but now he realized that his father had been trying to prepare him for the realities of life. His father had wanted to make him strong enough to endure whatever storms came his way.

But he wasn't strong enough. No, he was weak, too weak to help his family, too weak to make things better for his family. His father would be ashamed of him. _He_ was ashamed of himself.

His mother would never show her shame, but he knew that he had failed her as well. He had failed to redeem his family in the Dark Lord's eyes. He had failed to redeem his father in the Dark Lord's eyes.

As the son, he was supposed to be his father's heir, his father's future. He had forever ruined his father's future with his failure and his weakness.

He didn't know how to fix the mess that his life had become. He really needed his mother's comfort. He really needed his father's strength and confidence. He was missing a part of himself without his father to turn to for support, just as his mother was missing a part of herself without her husband by her side.

He missed his happy life at home. And for that happiness to return, he needed his family to be reunited and to be made whole once again.

And he needed his father back for that reunion and that completeness to happen.


End file.
